More Than Just Bethany & Elizabeth
by starlitsmile
Summary: Bethany's parents told her that out of all four clone babies, only one survived - her. But what if they were wrong?
1. Meredith

I survey the scene

In "Double Identity" by Margaret Peterson Haddix, Bethany's parents tell her that all of the clone babies died – except her. But what if they were wrong? Hope you enjoy!

My name is Meredith, and that's just always been who I am. Some girls wouldn't like that name, but I do, so I don't change it or give myself some cute little nickname. And no one seems to mind.

Not my Acro coach, or my friends, or any of the guys who flirt with me. No one minds…except my Mother.

"Why'd you name me that, Mom, then? Hmm?" she says she had to, because that was her Mother's name, and she had to please her Mom. I mean, I guess I can see why she had to please her Mom – seeing as I have absolutely no Father to speak of – but to bad, so sad, my name stays as it is. I am, after all, my own person. And it is, after all, my life.

Or so I thought.


	2. Jacqueline

I survey the scene

-- Please ignore the first sentence in the first chapter ("I survey the scene") I don't know how it got there, or how to delete it. Here's the next chapter! (And a new character…?) --

"Jacqueline! Get down here right now!" my Mom yells, angrily. I slowly descend down the stairs, wondering how much trouble I'm in. "Jacqueline, _why_ do you own contacts?"

I wave of relief washes over me. So she doesn't know about that stupid note the school Guidance Counselor sent home.

"Well because, Mom. I hate my glasses." I answer honestly. Everyone knows that! "Yes, but who bought them for you?" she raises an eyebrow. Uh-oh. When my Dad offered, I assumed it was something that my Mom had_ finally_ agreed on. She's always so old-fashioned. "Your Father got them for you, didn't he? I swear to God, sometimes that man…" she begins her tirade.

"No, Mom!" I interject, "No. They're…they're Calla's!" I lie, placing the blame on my best-friend, "She said she'd just lend me some."

Mom looks at me skeptically, "Didn't I raise you better? You are the worst liar…" and she goes off to yell at my Dad.

I sigh irritably and walk over to where my younger sisters, Deb and Sandi – both twins – are watching the news. I've always been so jealous of them. They not only have each other always but they also look exactly like our parents – wavy brown hair and warm brown eyes. Plus they have perfect straight teeth, and perfect vision, and are never any trouble at all.

Deb looks up at me now and goes, "Jacquie, doesn't that girl on television look just like you?" and the horrible thing is, she does.

Right down to the contact.


	3. Chelsea

-- Ah

-- Ah! That stupid sentence AGAIN!! Sorry! Hopefully it won't show up this time…just ignore it, it has nothing to do with the story! This is Chapter Three, and the story will get better soon…….well, hopefully, for all our sakes! --

"Why, Chelsea, I've never noticed it before but you look just like that girl they're all going on about over in Illinois. Do you know who I'm talking about?" Mrs. Prix, my next door neighbor, tells me. I smile tightly, "Yes Mrs. Prix. But I really must be going now." I reply as politely as I can.

People have been telling me that _all week_. "Oh Chelsea, you look just like those clones in Sanderfield!" I mean, sure, it's an uncanny resemblance, but these people have known me forever – they know that I'm not Bethany Cole or Elizabeth Krull. They know that I'm Chelsea Scribe!

I unlock my door and push my way inside. The house that my Mom, Oliver, and I share is very cramped. Especially with Mom and Oliver's first child on the way. Especially now that everything has been put in boxes, ready to be moved as soon as a suitable buyer knocks on our door.

Oliver isn't my Dad, although he's been around since I was five and he and Mom married when I was nine – so, he might as well be. As far as I'm concerned, the only way someone can really be considered my Dad, is if he's raised me. Which Oliver has more or less helped to do.

I head upstairs, drop my backpack by the kitchen table, and empty my lunchbox. I have rhythmic gymnastics tonight, but I don't plan on doing my homework. Every night of my life is packed full – rhythmic gymnastics on Tuesday, diving on Wednesday, Jazz on Thursday, babysitting on Friday, baton twirling on Saturday, church on Sunday – that my teachers allow me to just stay in during lunch to get my stuff done. I hate always having so much to do, but lately Mom and Oliver just want me out of the way.

So, I stay out of the way.


	4. Meredith's POV

-- Ah

"Hi I'm –" I begin, holding out my hand to be shaken. But my new Acro coach waves it away, "Don't tell me, don't tell me. Everyone knows who you are!" she exclaims.

I can feel myself blushing. Acro is a form of both gymnastics and dance mixed, and for whatever reason, I excel at it. I go to competitions and bring home trophies and medals. I've now become _so good_ that the dance place I used to go to just wasn't enough – now, I have my own private coach! But I mean, still. I'm not _that_ fabulous. She can't really know who I am…can she?

"You do? Really?" I'm excited at the idea of already having my name known. "Why of course! How could you think otherwise? This is a big thing! Never been done before!" she nods enthusiastically. Wait – never been done before? I know I'm pretty good at Acro, but I'm certainly not the best. Surely other girls – and guys – have had their own private coaches before!

"What do you mean?" I inquire, puzzled. "Come now – don't be so modest. Human cloning…why I never thought…" she murmurs the last bit to herself.

Cloning. She's going on and on about cloning….._why?_

"Um, I'm sorry but I'm not a clone." I deny. Lately it's like everyone's caught this clone bug or something – to me, it just seems kind of freaky. I mean, I'm sure the girl living now is nice. And the girl who died – well, let her rest in peace. But unless you're a twin, why have two of you?

"No? But you look just like Bethany Cole! Are you related in any way?" she blinks her eyes, looking – not so much innocent or ignorant, either, but just not realizing that her question isn't exactly harmless. Because with no Dad and a very secretive Mom, being related to that girl is extremely possible – and I just don't want it to be so.

"My name is Meredith Truedo." I reply, closing the topic.


	5. Jacqueline's POV

-- This will probably be my last chapter until I get a review, as I'm not sure if you guys like it or not, or what you'd like me to do. And to that one person, Carmin, I am already planning to have the girls meet. But thank you all the same --

Calla can't get over how much those two girls, Bethany and Elizabeth, look like me. Or I guess it'd be how much I look like Elizabeth, since she died more than a decade ago. But I really don't think the whole cloning thing is possible.

"Calla, get a grip, ok?" I tell her. "I wonder what day Bethany was born on?" she questions, "So Google it." I remark sarcastically.

And she does.

_The same day_. The same flippin' day as mine. Go figure. It must be coincidence, how much Bethany Cole and I are alike. Mustn't it? But anyhow, I'm not exactly about to ask my parents. Because with Deb and Sandi looking so completely identical…well, who knows? My parents could have a whole cloning business going on right under our noses.

But it's not likely.

Luckily for me, I didn't have to worry about asking my parents whether or not I was cloned, because Deb took care of that for me. Apparently, it's not a great idea to ask your Mom and Dad over potatoes and roast beef, "Was Jacqueline cloned?" because they might just spit out their food and give each other uneasy looks. And it might just so happen that you learn something you'd rather not know.

That you were.


	6. Chelsea's POV

-- Ah

- Thanks for the reviews! Next chapter up soon, I hope, but I have SOOO much homework!! Anyway, I know they're short. Sorry! Well, this is Chelsea's POV, enjoy! –

Something is seriously and utterly wrong. I know this because here I am, sitting at the kitchen table, Mom and Oliver across from me. They look uneasy and worried – they keep giving one another those stupid _We gotta tell her_ looks that I just cannot stand. My hair itches the back of my neck. I've twisted it up in a clip, ready for dance class. I'm wearing a navy-blue leotard and skin-coloured tights with rainbow legwarmers. I look over at the clock – it's six twenty-two, and I have to be there at seven.

"Mom, dance is twenty minutes away, can we go now?" I inquire, dropping my fork back into my bowl of half-eaten spaghetti. A piece of tomato from the sauce flies from my bowl and lands on the tablecloth. Both Mom and I look at the piece, her disgusted and me bored.

"Clean it up, Chelsea." Mom mumbles, I shrug and flick it back onto the pasta, "So, can we?" I push. "Can we what?" Mom looks up, honestly bewildered. "Can we _go_." I sigh irritably. Mom's face is still blank so I burst, "To Jazz class!" Really, what's up? Mom has never been so absentminded before. It must be the baby's fault.

"Oh, right. Chelsea, we do have a bit of time. There's something I would like to…discuss with you." Mom bites her lip. I frown – note how she doesn't say _we_. If I were in trouble, it would be a 'we'. Oliver and her. "We are very disappointed in you, Chelsea." "We have decided to ground you, Chelsea." And if it were something bad, it would still be a 'we'. "We are going to give the baby your room and make you sleep on the floor, Chelsea." Even if it were good Mom would still use the 'we', "We have found a house with a pool, Chelsea!"

But no. Mom used the singular form. Which means that this has nothing to do with Oliver at all. What does that mean?

"Chelse…" Mom frowns deeply, "You're illegal."

I blush. I mean, sure it's a fact. I'm obviously illegitimate – I mean, I've never known my Dad. But does that make me illegal? And why bring it up _now_?

The digital numbers on the stove morph into six twenty-five. I roll my eyes, "Mom that's way off topic. Will you drive me?" when she doesn't respond I look at Oliver and repeat, "Will you drive me?"

I mean, I could have seen it coming. I should have, I guess. Something was obviously wrong…but can you blame me for not knowing what?

"Chelsea!" Mom snaps suddenly, "Chelsea you are in no way my child. The clones! The clones! The clones!" At first I'm confused, then angry. "Mom, you're just letting people get to you. Don't be ridiculous." But Mom shakes her head.

"No, Chelse. It's true. I'm sorry, it's horrible – but I needed money, and then I just loved you, so I lied I flat out lied…I told them my baby died but it wasn't true. You are a clone of Elizabeth, Chelsea. And furthermore you are the sister of Bethany."

All thoughts of Jazz and rainbow legwarmers flee from my thoughts. I am no longer a dancer.

I'm a clone.


	7. Meredith & Jacquie

--- Meredith does some research!!! Meeting is coming up soon, but I'm not updating until I get another review, because I'm working on another story and if no one's reading I won't bother. Enjoy! ---

I look around the library, my eyes shifting but never landing on one specific person, feeling as though I'm doing something horribly wrong and as though someone will come up, grab my ear, pull me away and yell at me.

I have no reason to think that.

But think it I do.

I drop my backpack on the floor next to one of the cheap plastic chairs and sit down at a computer. It's slow and old, but it works – which is something my computer stopped doing a long time ago.

I open the internet browser and place my hands on the keys, clicking and typing until I reach Google. I drop my hands at my sides, what now?

_Clone!_ A voice in my mind hisses, _Freak of nature!_ I scowl and raise my hands back onto the keyboard, quickly pressing letters (finger by finger, because typing with two hands is something I never learnt) until I've spelt out one name.

Bethany Cole.

Her name pulls up lots of news articles, plus a few Facebook pages that belong to some thirty-two year old in Alaska (obviously not her). Eventually I stumble upon an online newspaper that's summed up the event.

_Walter Krull, now going by Walter Cole, cloned Bethany after his first daughter – Elizabeth – died at the age of thirteen years. There were four babies born to be clones, but after twenty-four hours only one girl remained living – Bethany herself. For more on the story, click below._

There's a link if I want it, but I have all I need. The other daughters died. Bethany is the only clone. I can't be one – it's impossible. But then I sight a picture of Bethany and my eyes widen.

WHY IS MY PICTURE ON THE WEB?!?!

_Because it's not your picture_, I realize and answer myself_, It's Bethany's. Which means you look just like her!_ I shiver, no wonder people are getting us mixed up. Then I smile, content for the time being. I don't know who's my Father – but I know who is my rightful Mother. And it's _not_ Mrs. Krull.

Except when I click the back button, just under the link I was at, is a new one that catches my eye. I'm three pages in, and at the bottom, but there it is. A plea from a girl who calls herself Jacquie293:

_I'm a clone of Bethany, I think. My parents said so…kinda. Am I one of the babies who NEVER DIED?!?!_

I sigh and click on the website, actually a blog written by Jacquie293. She hasn't said much other than what I already read, but then gives her email address saying, "If you have anything to add, please do tell."

I sigh and email her back, painstakingly pressing each letter until I've typed out a response.

_My name is Meredith. I think I'm a clone too._


End file.
